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Class. 

Booki 



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le— 47ST2-1 a^o 



r H E PASSION FOR RICHES 



AND its; iM'i.uLiVCl;. Ll'ON OUR 



SOCIAL, LITERARY AND POLITICAL CHARACTER. 



A JLECTirRE 



-P'£R£;> FEVOEE 



Ef>t ^^mtifl W^tn'^ ^s^otiution 



OF THE CITY OF UTICA, 



TBBRUARTr, 1838. 



Hie, DiuUo fine beatus, 



Compoiiit,. opes, gazis inhiaus ; 
fit cougesto pauper in auro est. 

Seneca. Hercules Furens. 



u r I c A : 

PRESS OF ELI MAYNARD. 
' 1838.' " 



FRED LOCKLEY 

RARE WESTERN BOOKS 

4227 S. E. Stark St. 
PORTLAND. ORE. 






\ 






UTICA, February 19, 1838. 
JAMES WATSON WILLIAMS, Esci. 

Dear Sir, — The undersigned having been appointed by 
the Young Men's Association of this city, a Committee, to request a copy for 
publication, of your Lecture delivered before them on the 7th inst,, take great 
pleasure in the performance of their duty. The most of us were personally 
present at its delivery, and are therefore able to speak, from personal knowledge, 
of its merits. From the stylo and manner of the Lecture, wo consider it one 
calculated to reflect honor on its author, and the Body before whom it was 
delivered ; and from the valuable sentiments set forth in it, calculated to do 
good to the community. Entertaining these opinions of your Lecture, we 
venture to express a hope, that you will not forbid its publication. 
We are, very respectfully, ^ 

Your obedient servants. 

WARD HUNT, 
E. MAYNARD, 
G. S. DANA, 
H. SEYMOUR. 



>^^ 



v\S 



THE PASSION FOR RICHES; 

AND ITS INl'LUEA'CE UPON OUR 

iSOCIAL, LITERARY, AND POLITICAL CHARACTER. 



Man is naturally desirous of whatever confers distinction, or 
gives him influence and power. The lust of superiority, either 
fancied or real, positive or comparative, distinguishes the race. 
Some delight to soar above their fellows in the achievements of 
intellectual exertion. Tliese become the masters of science and of 
art ; and receive willing homage thi'oughout the realms where reason 
and fimcy have their dominion. Some seek their elevation by means 
of those influences which govei-n men through their necessities, their 
appetites, and their passions. Some choose to pursue those distinc- 
tions which, with fine propriety, attend the display of extraordinary 
virtue and integrity ; and some, like him who fired the magnificent 
Temple of Diana, those which exalt even crime, and make its perpe- 
trator infamously famous. Thus, in one way or another, commenda- 
ble or reprehensible, all, with rare exceptions, and each in his several 
sphere, covet consideration and preeminence. 

It is not difficult to decide what kind of reputation, if commonly 
sought after, would most advance the general happiness. It would 
undouljtedly be that which follows the exercise of the virtues. Un- 
fortunately, however, such is not the prime object of ordinary ambi- 
tion. That which commonly impels men to enterprise and sways 
their conduct, is of a less noble character. True, it implies the 
practice of some of the virtues ; but it also involves the free indul- 
gence of some of the frailties. Thus, to acquire wealth and the 
advantages it confers upon its possessor, it is not industry, pru- 
dence, frugality, and uprightness that alone conduce to that end. 
These generally lead but to a competency. Merc good fortune, and 



6 

the accidents ol" position out of the question, — the acquisition of 
great riches is too often the result of sacrifices which no truly good 
man can conscientiously make ; sacrifices of generosity, of the obli- 
gations of charity and humanity, of exact equity, and of the duties 
justly owing to society. There was much truth in the remark that 
was made of one who had acquired a fortune of millions ; ' that no 
man could have heaped up so much who had done his duty to his 
family, his friends, and his country as he went along.' 

The unrestrained desire for riches is the fruitful mother of much 
that is noxious ; Avhich wealth possessed does not remedy, nor wealth 
distributed set right. I say the desire for riches ; because it is a 
just distinction, and one too often overlooked, which is made between 
the desire and the object of it. ' The love of money is the root of all 
evil' ; not money ; but that extravagant iondness for it which is apt 
to absorb the soul to the neglect of whatever is becoming to human- 
ity. That wealth has its advantages, both intrinsically and in t}vs 
influence it carries with it, is not to be denied nor doubted. In truth, 
there is nothing, except the more exalted gifts of nature or of educa* 
tion, that can aspire to equal it. It gives to those who are indiifer- 
ently blessed both by nature and education, an advantage which even 
these often fail to render. It commands respect and weight where 
other endowments are ineffectual to secure them ; and in the char- 
acter of an auxiliary and a minister, its value is inestimable. ' A 
full purse never lacks friends.' 

The possession of riches is more especially coveted by the mass 
of mankind, not only because it gives them a degree of considera- 
tion to which their genuine worth of character would not always 
justify them in aspiring, but because it is within the grasp of com- 
mon ability. They seek it as an adventitious aid towards the emi- 
nence they would reach. The most lofty and desirable distinctions 
<;an be acquired by only a few ; and they are bestowed principally 
upon extraordinary genius and eminent public services. The major- 
ity of men are therefore i-estricted to distinctions of a less elevation. 
Most of this class arise not so much from mental superiority, as from 
the accidents of birth and fortune ; or from the constant and success- 
ful direction of middling ability to some favorite end. Of all worldly 
ends, the attainment of wealth seems to be the most decidedly attract, 
ive. There is a pleasure in the accumulation, a pleasure in the use, 
and a pleasure in the mere possession of it. It is, besides, an influ- 



ential instrument; and in the hands of the shrewd or the aspiring, 
stands in place of other endowments intrinsically more valuable. 

When we consider that to possess riches is not generally to pos- 
sess happureas, it appears singular that the ardant love of them should 
be so universal as it is. But the same thing may be said of all dis- 
tinctions. They are of themselves far from yielding, to a rightly 
balanced mind, much real enjoyment. The most happy among men 
are they who make contentment with that they have occupy the 
place of desire for that they have not. But in the same proportion 
that they accomplish this, they seem to sink in the estimation of the 
world. They glide through life with a ' velvet pace,' unnoticed and 
unenvied ; unless their quiet and unobtrusive pursuits, like those of 
Newton and Locke, are of that exalted intellectual character that 
gives them fame, wliile their real object is only to benefit mankind. 
"The ambitious, tbs restless, the insatiate, and the insatiable ; they 
who seek constantly to improve their condition, however prosperous 
it may be ; are generally those who obtain the greatest share of 
observation and of envy. To be observed and envied, is to be distin- 
guished ; and that is enough to satisfy the cravings of a common 
ambition. 

Perhaps, however, this is a very unsatisfactory mode of philoso- 
phizing upon the passion for riches. It may be that it attributes too 
much to a fondness for consideration and influence, and therefore for 
the means which secure tliem ; and too little to the very common 
and very inexplicable affection for wealth simply because it gratifies 
avarice, and to the equally common but less singular attachment for 
it because it ministers to an easy, luxurious, or extravagant life. 
But to whatever causes we may refer its existence, that it exists, 
and is one of the most violent impulses of human action is not to be 
denied. It sways the mass of mankind as if it were an inborn prin- 
ciple. Rem, quocunque modo, rem; wealth, no matter how, but 
wealth; are the syllables that govern the world. The temple of 
mammon is thronged with constant and most devoted worshippers ; 
and if the power of an idol may be measured by the numbers that 
flock to his shrine and pay the most abject homage, the blind and 
lame and winged god Plutus may, of all others, confidently claim the 
preeminence. Most men Avould rather be perplexed with the trea. 
sures of Croesus than enjoy the poverty and the happiness of Solon. 

In this country, wealth imparts an influence which nothing else 



but talents and station can command. We have none of those dif- 
ferences of birth and degree which elsewhere divide the community 
into artificial ranks. Here, nothing is hereditary, except physical 
diseasi. Neither office, nor patronage, nor estates, descend from 
generation to generation. Every one is wisely left to be the artificer 
of his own fortune. It is this circumstance, perhaps, that strength- 
ens in our citizens the tendency they all seem to have towards the 
attainment of riches. They do not all reach the end they aspire to ; 
but the aspiration is of itself a sufficient evidence of the disposition. 
Comfort and competency seem to have no charms for us. No sooner 
do we attain these than we grasp at opulence and luxury. 

Not to pursue, however, any longer these general reflections, I 
propose to examine into the influence which the passion for wealth 
exerts upon our social, literary, and political character. It is a wide 
field to be traversed in the scbpe of a single lecture, such as your time 
and patience would tolerate, or my own leisure and ability enable 
me to prepare. But we may collect, even in a hurried passage 
through it, somewhat that will not be entirely uninstructive or unen- 
tertaining. 

I do not intend when I speak of the ' passion for riches,' that 
moderate desire which every man properly feels to place himself in 
an independent position ; but that appetite for gain which borders 
upon avarii e, if it does not become avarice itself. Thus understood, 
it may be affirmed that it materially affects our social condition, and 
that unfavorably. It is essentially a selfish passion ; and social life 
demands constant sacrifices of selfishness, not only seemingly, but 
really. "It is a poor centre of a man's actions — himself," says 
Lord Bacon ; and yet, poor as it is, it is the centre towards which 
the industry and care of those who seek riches perpetually converge. 
The devotee of money is commonly so much occupied with his piime 
object, that the social pleasures and duties have little charm for him. 
While he should be contributing his share to human enjoyment, he is 
more willingly employed in gloating over his gains, or in devising 
new means of augmentation. Business devours him ; not that busi- 
ness simply which is necessary to the support, the occupation, and 
the innocency of life, and the securing of all its reasonable gratifi- 
cations ; but that which consists in heaping up treasure to gratify a 
sordid ambition or pamper extravagant appetites. He forgets that 
*' riches are for spending; and spending for honor and good actions"; 



y 

and oftentimes nolliing but a fear of tlie world's contumely extorts 
from him those doles and donatives which are demanded to support 
good neighborhood and the institutions which charity and public 
spirit are ever forward in establishing. These, in truth, depend, for 
their foundation and continuance, not upon any munificence of his, 
so long as he lives to fondle his treasures. It is the men of middling 
means who contribute the most, and most disproportionably too, to 
those public endowments and private charities, which lighten the 
hearts, by administering to the necessities, of the wretched; or ele- 
vate the race by encouragement, sympathy, and instruction. 

But a want of liberality and of interest in the affairs of society 
is not his only failing. If we note candidly the steps by which opu- 
lence is reached, we cannot but confess that it is not unfrequently by 
practices, which, though by the courtesy of the world they are called 
fair and honest, will siot bear the test of a searching and severe mora- 
lity. It is by hard bargains ; by exorbitant exactions ; by shifts of 
trade ; by mercenary alliances ; by concealment or exaggeration of 
the truth ; by cunning and overreaching ; by a constant watchful- 
ness of chances ; by gambling in stocks ; by monopolies of the neces- 
saries of life ; by the unworthy exercise of influence and power ; by 
takino; advantaire of the necessities of others when true nobleness 
would render as an unpurchased favor what is too frequently granted 
from the mere impulse of a gainful propensity. " The ways to 
enrich," says the same great writer before quoted, " are many, but 
most of them foul." " There is i*arely any rising, but by a commix- 
ture of good and emZ arts." "Honesty," says Selden, "sometimes 
keeps tf man from growing rich" — but "he that will give himself 
to all manner of Avays to get money, may be rich." A fine poet cor- 
roborates these remarks, and adds an excellent moral : 

" Riches are oft by guilt and baseness earn'd ; 

" Or dealt by chanco to shield a lucky knave, 

" Or throw a cruel sunshine on a foot 

" But for one end, one much neglected use, 

" Are riches worth your care ; (for nature's wants 

" Are few, and vvitliout opulence supplied ;) 

" This noble end is, to produce the soul ; 

"To show the virtues in their fairest light ; 

" To make humanity the minister 

" Of bounteous Providence ; and teach the breast 

" The generous luxury the gods enjoy.'' 

Wealth hides many defects of character, and glosses over the arts 



10 

fjy which it was attained. After one has reached it, unless it l^^e by 
jthe most glaring knaveryj wo do not often look back to the 

' base degrees 
' By which he did ascend.' 

If we knew how much of niany fortunes is the fruit of a concealed 
sort of iniquity, which the common consent of the world rather coun- 
tenances than condemns ; and were .capable of appreciating justly 
the tendency of those dispositions which accompany the successful 
pursuit of wealth ; a regard for the true happiness of society would 
prompt every good citizen to restrain the passion within the limits 
that wisdom prescribes. We should check it, as we feel bound to 
check the violent physical passions. Every man stands in need of 
a competency, and no man in need of any thing more. It may be 
acquired too without the indulgence of any vicious ambition. It is 
the medium which Agur desired as most conducive to innocency of 
life ; deprecating the extremes of poverty and riches as equally bane- 
ful to his happiness. It is precisely the point where human aspira- 
tions after worldly enjoyments should end ; but it is precisely the 
,point where the itch for affluence, which is falsely supposed to yield 
superior felicity, begins. What is a competency, however, depends 
upon state and circumstances. " That," says Selden, " which is a 
competency for one man, is not enough for another, no more than 
that which will keep one man warm, will keep another man warm ; 
one man can go in doublet and hose, when another man cannot be 
without a cloak, and yet have no more clothes than is necessary for 
him." 

If the object of pursuing wealth were profitably and generously 
to use, rather than sordidly to heap it, we should not have so great 
cause for wonder at the pains, anxieties, embarrassments, and sacrifi- 
ces voluntarily undergone by its votaries ; and society would be some- 
what compensated for the evils which the passion begets, by the 
willing and prudent distribution of the gains of the prosperous. But 
to accumulate, is the natural tendency of the passion ; and the motives 
for it are various. Some hoard for the benefit of their posterity ; 
jsome for the gratification of their own appetites ; some are saving 
and niggardly all their lives with no other apparent design but to 
make a splendid display of generosity in their testaments. The 
liberality which should have constituted the adornment and duty of 
|;heir whole existence, is reserved to crown their exits with a magni» 



11 

ficent testimonial of their devotion to some favored object ; hitherto, 
perhaps, languishing into obscurity for want of their timely benefac 
tions. It may be thought somewhat singular advice to come from 
one whom Pope calls the " meanest'* of mankind ; but it is good 
advice notwithstanding: "Defer not charities till death ; for cer- 
tainly if a man weigh it i"ightly, he that doth so, is rather liberal of 
another man's than of his own." 

The love of riches seems to * grow with that it feeds on' ; and, 
long indulged, it degenerates into the wretched vice of avarice, the' 
frequent frailty of old age. "There are people,"^ says La Bruyere, 
" who are badly housed, badly lodged, badly clothed, and more badly 
fed ; who sustain the rigors of the seasons ; who deprive themselves 
of the society of men, and pass their days in solitude ; who suffer 
from the present, the past, and the future ; whose life is a continual 
penance, and who have thus discovered the secret of going the most 
thorny way to perdition," One would judge that this forcible por- 
trait was designed to represent Troglodytes, or Lazzaroni at the 
least. "These," however, continues La Bruyere, "are misers^ 
They are men of wealth, who exhibit the prevailing attachment to it 
in its most palpable and disgusting form. It is no caricature of them ; 
and with a proper softening down, many of its features are charac- 
teristic of those worshippers of mammon whom the world respects. 
There are periods when this insatiable thirst for gold is aggra- 
vated into an epidemical disoFder that pervades all classes of society. 
Its effects, then, upon the social system are apparent and alarming. 
Every one feels himself a Midas, endued with the power of trans- 
muting all he touches into gold. The brilliant gloss with which the 
first gleam of distant affluence tinges every thing that the eager ima- 
gination seizes upon, deludes' men to indulge a thousand glittering 
expectations, raised but to be mocked and blasted. The high and 
the low, the rich and the poor, the industrious and the dissolute ; all, 
excited by this bewildering passion, neglect or abandon their presenfi' 
callings to launch out upon a deceitful current, with the depths and 
shoals of which they are unfamiliar ; confident that it will bear them 
to an ElDorado that has no real existence. Multitudes are wrecked 
by the way ; and the ruins of hitherto thriving business, of respecta- 
ble competency, and frequently of worth, integrity, and character,, 
that attend upon their disastrous career, are melancholy illustrations^ 
of the truth of the saying — *They that will be rich fall into tempta- 



12 

tibn and a Snare.'' In sUcli times, men run headlong to sacrifice the 
substance of which they are already secure, that they may grasp an 
illusory phantom, and be mocked with a shadow. They, involve 
themselves deeply, perhaps irretrievably, in embarrassments ; and 
mortgage the industry and hopes of their remaining years to extin- 
guish incumbrances which fortune, who is not to be won except by 
assiduous and persevering wooing, has buckled on their backs as 
badges of their reckless folly. 

The tendency of all this is to disturb society, to unsettle habits, 
and to humble self-respect. Who can tell how many a wretched 
victim of intemperance, of idleness, of shame, of abject poverty, has 
been reduced to that humiliation by the disappointment of his sense- 
less and deluded aspirations for sudden opulence ? How many a 
miserable man, still upright in his misery and virtuous in his misfor- 
tunes, has been broken down in his spirit and his native dignity of 
feeling, by the prostration of designs formed for his enrichment and 
elevation ; the only fruit of which is a burthen of perplexities and 
discouragements that the energies of a life-time cannot effectually 
alleviate ? 

I have said that the passion for riches is essentially a selfish pas- 
sion. The remark was made in reference to its inliuence upon our 
social character. It is also an engrossing passion. In its most vio- 
lent degree, it absorbs the mind to the exclusion of every thing else, 
intellectually ; and, physically, it often stints the body not only of 
reasonable indulgences, but of wholesome sustenance. This is an 
extreme, however, which we rarely witness ; and to make use of it 
to exemplify the usual effect of the appetite, wwe to color it far too 
highly. Downright misers, as La Bruyere has pourtrayed them, ajre 
happily very few ; avaricious men are more common ; and it may 
be affirmed very generally of those who are affected by a marked 
desire for accumulation, that, in proportion to its strength, they are 
disposed or constrained to curtail not only physical but intellectual 
enjoyment. It is this characteristic of the passion that is to be con- 
sidered as bearing upon our literary character. 

The paths of knowledge, to those who have tasted the beauty and 
wariety of the delights which constantly spring up about them, are as 
pleasant and peaceful as are the ways of virtue to the good. So 
strong is this impression of their delightfulness, and of its perennial 
and uapalling endurance, that it has become a part of the belief of 



13 

ihose wh6 look forward to happiness in an after life, that it will coiu 
sist, next to the presence of the Deity, in the fruition of a constantly 
expanding intelligence. There is much even in this world which 
they burn to penetrate, but which is wrapped in darkness to the eye 
of the wisest and most profound. Theirs can hardly be deemed a fan-- 
ciful creed who believe that a hereafter is to unfold to their ardent 
minds not only the mysteries of the present, but the intellectual glories 
of the future. Here, though we do but " know in part," yet this partial 
knowledge inflames us to seek the more earnestly for that fullness of 
intelligence which is thought to be reserved to crown the feUcity of 
our coming existence. The pursuit of wisdom is constantly enforced 
in the sacred writings, and by the teachings of philosophy, as the 
noblest and most congenial to human happiness, temporal or eternal ; 
and it has no more constant or powerful antagonist than the love of 
mammon. Solomon felt this when he besought of God only wisdom ; 
l)ut God, out of regard to his moderation, rewarded him with the 
two-fold distinction of the greatest wisdom and the greatest wealth. 
A humble condition in point of pecuniary resources, and even 
poverty itself, has always proved the most faithful foster-mother of 
genius and intellectual exertion. I need not labor to show this by 
illustrations. " Wealth," says Jean Paul, " weighs heavier on talent 
than poverty. Pressed to death beneath mountains of gold and thrones, 
lies perhaps buried many an intellectual giant. When into the flames 
of youth, the warmer faculties being in their fullest glow, is poured 
the oil of riches, little of the Phoenix will be left but lifeless ashes ; 
and only some Goethe has the vigor not to burn his wings shorter at 
the sun of Fortune. Not for /nuck money," continues he, " would the 
present poor lilstorical professor have had much money in his youth. 
Fate deals with poets as we deal with birds, and darkens the cage of 
the songster until he can sing the notes that are played to him." 
These fine sentiments are introduced by an apostrophe to poverty* 
*' Welcome ! so that thou dost not come in one's too late days." 

In a si milarv strain is the remark of Ockley, a learned student of 
Oriental Literature of the last century, who writes in a prison where 
he was confined for debt. '" I have enjoyed more true liberty, more 
happy leisure, and more solid repose, in six months here, than in 
thrice the same number of years before. I did always in my judg- 
ment give the possession o( wisdom the preference to that of riches." 
Men of letters do not often attain, and seldom aspire to, any thing 
beyond a competency ; although there are instances, like Scolt and 

B 



14 

Gcethe, of their ari'iving at handsome fortunes, the fruit of their lite- 
rary labors. Their ambition is not of the kind which tends to ava- 
rice. It is of an intellectual character. Supply the physical neces- 
sities of a student, and he desires little besides but fame, 

• Nor blames the partial fates if they refuse 
' The imperial banquet and the rich attire.' 

His delight is not in those avocations which hamper the energies 
and obstruct the developements of the soul ; and although the neces- 
sities of life, or the circumstances of his position, may require him 
to do his part in these, his mind is not wedded to them, nor harrassed 
by the cares and fears which the cupidity of gain begets in other men. 
We rarely find wealth praised by the poets ; although the wealthy 
were their patrons. Their eulogiums and wishes are confined to an 
easy and dignified independence. The life of the husbandman and 
the shepherd appears to be their beau ideal of happiness ; and hus- 
bandmen and shepherds, we all know, are less distinguished for afflu- 
ence than for contentment. Theocritus, Virgil, and Cowley are 
eloquent in their praises of the pastoral life ; and Horace, rich in 
the modest retirement of his country seat and the applause of his 
cotemporaries, could unreluctantly decline place and emolument at 
the hand of Augustus. 

To follow wealth to the greatest advantage, it is as necessary to 
be devoted to it, as to attain excellence in science or art, it is requi- 
site that the favorite branch of either should have our whole study 
and ardor. Every thing in which one desires to be preeminent must 
be the occupation of a life. Hence it is that they who are attracted 
by the glitter of gold have little leisure, as well as little inclination, 
for more ennobling pursuits. To add acre to acre, or pound to pound, 
is as much their delight as it is with the literary to increase and 
display their stores of knowledge. 

It is too much the case in this country that we underrate scholars 
and their acquirements ; that is, we are apt to think of a man who 
addicts himself to science and literature, that his time might be turn- 
ed to more profitable account were he engaged in some calling that 
would tend more directly to the increase of his fortune. We are all 
for the practical ; by which we mean that which has little to do with 
mental advancement and everything with gain. We appear to con- 
sider the modicum of knowledge which enables one to pursue business 
with profit, as all abundant in the way of education ; and that what- 
ever exceeds that weakens the capacity for the affairs of every day 



15 

life. The consequence is, that shrewdness in turning a penny or 
driving a bargain has become a sort of national characteristic. Our 
enterprise, which is distinguished, is directed rather to the increase 
of our opulence than to the elevation of our minds. We so much 
magnify the one that we almost overlook the other. We seem to 
estimate the possession of riches as the chief good, and the want of 
them as a crime which should subject those who acknowledge it to 
the same allegorical prison into which Arasmanes was thrown when 
he found himself in a country where the people worshipped only one 
deity, the God of the Precious Metals ; and where not to have theee 
was not to have virtue. " What a strange — what a barbarous coun- 
try !" cried Arasmanes. " Barbarous !" echoed the Prince ; " this is 
the most civilized country in the whole world — nay, the whole world 
acknowledges it. In no country are the people so rich, and therefore 
so happy. For those who have not money it is, indeed, a bad place 
of residence ; for those who have, it is the land of happiness itself!" 

In proportion to our population and our resources, we have very 
few distinguished scholars and authors. The mass of those who 
deem themselves such are rather superficial than thorough and ac- 
complished ; partly owing to a want of early training, and partly to 
a deficiency of those endowments which it is the honor and should 
be the duty of opulence to found for their support and encourage- 
ment. The temptations to excellence in science and letters are not 
sufficiently abundant to detach inen from subordinate pursuits. It 
will always be thus until our citizens have learned that the seduc- 
tions of affluence are not so worthy of their sense or their ambition 
as the less obtrusive attractions of knowledge and wisdom. 

The effects of the same passion are apparent in the general neglect 
of education. True, every one is taught something elemental ; but 
many parents, unmindful of the old homely maxim, that ' learning is 
better than house and lands,' stint their children in point of literary 
accomplishments that the savings may be reserved to set them off" 
with a fortune, which, to the uncultivated, generally turns out to be 
the greatest of all misfortunes. Were the gold that is saved to cor 
rupt and ruin them, expended in training and furnishing their minds ; 
were they not snatched from their studies in the greenness of youth, 
because a pitiful parsimony is best consulted by curtailing their intel- 
lectual advantages ; we should not only have riper scholars, but more 
finished men. 

This division of the subject, however, cannot now be extended. 



16 

The connection between the passion we are considering and our liteu 
Tary character is not sufficiently palpable to be pourtrayed by hasty 
strokes. It is a theme that is worthy of a more amplified discussion 
than I am able to bestow upon it. But it is one to which our atten- 
tion should be oftener directed than it is. Literary and scientific 
pursuits eminently become a peaceful and thriving nation. They 
yield enjoyments and distinctions far more excellent and gratifying 
than those which occupy the senses or tempt the ambition of the sor- 
did. Cicero will be remembered, when Croesus shall be forgotten. 
In considering the influence of the passion for riches upon our 
political character, it is to be noted that ours is a republican, and 
designed to be a plain, government ; and that virtue, talent, and public 
services constitute our only legitimate distinctions. In monarchies,, 
rank and opulence confer superiority ; the one of necessity in that 
kind of polity, and the other to: support the first. Both being usually 
hereditary, while they constitute no evidence of superior worth, they 
still collier this great advantage ; that they either extinguish or greatly 
modify in one class of the community, that strong gainftil propensity 
which humbler circumstances encourage in the multitude. But a 
republic is upheld by no such artificial supports. There wealth iriay 
useful as an auxiliary, but it is inefficient as a main dependence. On 
the contrary, it is often the bane of simple governments ; while mo- 
narchies, oligarchies, or despotisms, may thrive upon the corruptions 
which it engendere and feeds. 

It was the aim of Lycurgus to equalize property in order to per^. 
petuate the severe and simple laws which he established in Lacedae- 
mon. They stood as monuments of his wisdom for seven hundred 
years, and it was then principally the introduction of money that cor- 
rupted that people. In a highly commercial state, and particularly 
in this age of the world, different laws must govern. But if we look 
back to our own early history and contemplate the examples of our 
ancestors, we shall observe, with somewhat of bigotry and intolerance 
to avoid, much that it is highly desirable we should imitate. The 
pilgrims, when they landed from the Mayflower — a weary and com- 
fortless group — had httle to rely upon but God and their own severe 
virtues ; those virtues which adorn freedom, no less than they become 
Christianity ; which give life, vigor, and endurance to a republic. 
The first was Industry, without which it was impossible to reuder 
their condition tolerable; in its train followed Frugality, the e:^rcise 
of which, at all times desirable. Was rendered imperious by circum- 



17 

stances ; Perseverance, essential to the ultimate success of all human 
efforts ; Temperance, necessary to the rational enjoyment of life, and 
to the support of all the other virtues ; Courage for the defence of 
their new possessions ; and Fortitude to endure the disasters and 
reverses of their exposed condition- On these virtues, next to Hea- 
ven, as on a foundation of rock, did they depend as the chief sup- 
ports of their independence and prosperity. They adhered to them 
with Spartan, -nay, with christian rigor ; and taught their posterity 
to revere and cultivate them as their cheapest and surest safeguards, 
and their most desirable inheritance. 

Years and generations passed away ; but these simple and eleva- 
ting virtues, transmitted from father to son, endured in unabating 
vigor and gave an impress to the increasing population of the colo- 
nies. Educated to the noble and independent pursuits of agriculture, 
or to the more enterprising, but less innocent ones, of commerce ; 
luxury, extravagance, and effeminacy, the usual vices of prosperity, 
had not sapped the soundness of their character. Without opulence, 
and therefore without the corruptions that are its common attendants, 
they entered courageously upon a warfare which, having exercised 
all their capacities for endurance, ended triumphantly in the establish- 
ment of their freedom. It was the victory of exalted virtues, from 
which we have greatly degenerated. 

I speak strongly, but I think truly. Our present condition will 
amply justify the assertion. Without entering into any partisan dis- 
quisition as to the difficulties under which our country labors ; a dis- 
quisition which the occasion would not allow, however sincerely it 
might be attempted ; it may be safely and properly said that, so far 
as they are real, they are attributable in no slight degree to a neglect 
of the substantial good qualities exemplified in the lives of our pro- 
genitors. Were they contented with a moderate competence ? Wo 
are greedy of more abounding riches. Were they frugal ? We are 
running into a ruinous extravagance. Were they stable and perse- 
vering ? We are ever varying our pursuits in the vain hope of reali- 
zing wealth in some different avocation from that to which we were 
educated. Like Atalanta, with whatever determination we at first set 
out in life, we hardly begin to run the race with energy before we 
are tempted aside by the golden apples. We forsake our farms, our 
merchandize, our workshops, and our professions, and seek elsewhere 
that afiluence which only perseverance can secure. Instead of cher- 
ishing those qualiites which are vital in a republic, we are imitating 



18 

the vices of monarchies where there are vast accumulations of here- 
ditary wealth. It is time we should return to the ancestral virtues. 
They are the essential virtues which bless and adorn life, and become 
a plain and republican people. 

This contrast, however, of the present and the past may possibly 
be met in the minds of some by a similar feeling with that which 
prompted Mammon in the Faery Queen, to rebuke Sir Guyon for 
dwelling upon the simplicity and happiness of the early ages by way 
of placing in a more striking light the encroachments of avarice 
and indulgence ; 

" Son" (said he then,) "let be thy bitter scorn, 
'• And leave the rudeness of that antique age 
" To them, that liv'd therein in state forlorn ; 
" Thou that dost live in later times must wage 
•' Thy works for wealth, and life for gpld engage." 

But with all deference to such feelings, the 'antique age' is too rich 
with useful experience to be 'let be' or forgotten by those who regard 
our political advancement and security. If we judge from the past, 
there appears to be in nations a constant tendency towards degene- 
racy and downfall. After arriving at a certain pitch of prosperity, 
their course is generally downwards from prosperity to indulgence, 
and from indulgence to ruin. It therefore concerns us to learn a 
lesson from the past, and to seek to avoid those vices which have 
precipitated the most flourishing states to dissolution. The common 
evils which beset a highly successful condition are luxury, extrava- 
gance, and effeminacy. Prosperity, however, may be enjoyed without 
those usual concomitants ; and it should be the chief study of this 
great people as it was the ardent desire of their unostentatious ances- 
try, to reach that desirable point of national happiness where abund- 
ance may be possessed with philosophy, and ease without dissolute- 
ness. But it is to be feared that we have already wandered some- 
what wide of the true path to this wished for consummation, and 
have been too much bent upon discovering some royal road to riches, 
'^he husbandman has left his fields unfilled, to tempt fortune in distant 
parts of our domain ; the merchant, easy in credit, and confident in 
his resources, has drawn upon the future, and meantime run riot in 
indulgence ; the professional man has abandoned his books, and sought 
in speculations a rapid increase of that wealth which Providence 
designs as the reward of well directed and virtuous labor ; labor which 
under the semblance of a perpetual curse, is the most constant of 
blessings. An inordinate spirit of gain seems to have infected us 



19 

all to madness ; and, like gamesters, attracted by delusive hopes, we 
have deviated from the direct course to happiness until the loss of 
fortune and credit begins to x'ecover us to our senses. We may now 
learn anew the neglected paternal lesson that industry, frugality, and 
stability in our respective pursuits, will in this favored land ensure to 
every man a competence ; and a competence, despise it as we may 
is real wealth. We should acquire and soberly enjoy it ; and leave 
it to our descendants, as our forefathers left it to theirs, to make ft 
similar acquisition and obtain similar enjoyments for themselves. It 
will be a more valuable legacy than any we can provide for them. 
Such has been the aim of our plain institutions. We have endea- 
vored, and that most wisely, to do away those false distinctions which 
arise from the possession of riches ; and to secure their distribution 
amongst all the citizens of the republic, by discountenancing extras 
vagant accumulations for the ruin of posterity. 

As anoth3r evidence of our inclination to degenerate, I may refer 
you, I think with truth, to a distate daily manifesting itself towards 
the pursuts of agriculture. The reason is evident, and has been 
forcibly assigned, generations ago, by Lord Bacon. "The improve- 
ment of the ground is the most natural obtaining of riches ; for it is 
our great mother's blessing, the earth's ; but it is slow." Men 
therefore press from the country to the town, to engage in callings 
that promise speedier profit but less independence. Agriculture, 
however, as it was the earliest, so it is the most honorable, innocent, 
free, and manly of all human avocations. " The first three men in 
the world," says Cowley, " were a gardener, a ploughman, and a gra- 
zier ; and if it be objected that the second of ihese was a murderer, 
I desire it will be remembered that as soon as he became so he left 
our profession and turned builder." "If heraldry," he continues, 
" were guided by reason, a plough in a field arable is the most noble 
and ancient arms." " Hate not laborious work," saith Ecclesiasticus, 
♦' neither husbandry which the Most High hath ordained." There 
is no employment in life of equal necessity and importance ; and 
.there is certainly none so well designed to foster the substantial vir- 
tues and maintain a republic in its severe simplicity. It is the grand 
dependence of our country ; and had we exhausted the riches of our 
extended and fertile soil, instead of chasing the igiics fatui of wealth, 
we should never have been reduced to the humiliating necessity of 
depending upon foreigners for our bread. 

It may be laid down as a principle that those arts and occupa- 
tions which reasonably reward labor without yielding inoi'dinatc 



20 

gains> are the best calculated to promote our true and permianent 
interests. It is upon them that the severer virtues delight to attend ; 
while expense, effeminacy, and extravagant indulgence are the fre- 
tjuent accompaniments of all the rest. Those, therefore, demand our 
highest respect and encouragement ; and these should only be coun- 
tenanced so far as they are positively needful to private and public 
welfare. In proportion as this principle is allowed its just influence 
in determining the direction of our energies and the selection of our 
pursuits, shall we gain in contentment individually, and nationally 
in stability. It is the constant rush towards whatever scheme, em- 
ployment, or speculation for the moment tempts our cupidity, that 
disturbs the balance of affairs, whethet private or piiblic, and keeps 
them in perpetual turmoil ; while the last cause we generally blame 
for the evils thus occasioned is our own restlessness and dissatisfac- 
tion with a quiet course of advancement and prosperity. 

I hope it may not be inferred from any remarks which have been 
advanced, that I am insensible to the striking advantages > that thd 
desire to prosper in our worldly affairs, which is a modification of 
the passion we have been considering, produces upon our character 
in the various aspects in which it has been cursorily viewed. That 
they have not been more particularly touched upon is not because they 
are lightly estimated ; but because the limits proposed for treating 
upon the subject, confined me to the excessive cupidity, the exclusive 
devotion, and the sordid greediness which distinguish the passion in 
its stronger developements. The impulse to place one's self in an 
easy condition of life is approved by both philosophy and religion ; 
but it is a different impulse from that to which your attention has 
been particularly directed. This is a headlong current, setting vio- 
lently from a pestilent fountain, and poisonous to every thing that 
seeks to vegetate upon and adorn the repulsive rocks that border it ; 
that is a quiet and refreshing stream, flowing from a healthful source, 
and upon its fruitful margins flourish all the virtues and graces which 
impart a charm to prosperity and stamp humanity with nobleness. 
It is these which 

" work the soul's eternal health, 

' And love, and joy, and gentleness impart ; 

* But these thou must renounce, if lust of wealth 

' E'er win its way to thy corrupted heart ; 

' For ah ! it poisons like a scorpion's dart ; 

' Prompting th' ungenerous wish, the selfish scheme, 

' The stern resolve, unmov'd by pity's smart, 

' The troublous day, and long distressful dream." 



SERMON 



ON THE DEATH 



JEREMIAH EVARTS, ESft 



CORRESPONDING SECRETARY OF A. B. C. F. I.I. 



UELIVEUED IN ANDOVER JULY 3J, 16J1. 



BY AFPOINTMENT OF THE PRUDENTIAL COMMITTEE. 



BY LEONARD WOODS, D. D. 

Professor of C'lirisliaii Tliculogy in the Theol. Sem. Andover. 



ANDOVER: 

PRINTEU BV ri.AGG AND GOULD. 

1831. 



SERMON. 



"WHO WENT ABOUT DOING GOOD." ACTS 10: 38. 

We have assembled, brethren and friends, to manifest our 
respect to the memory of a beloved servant of Christ, and our 
sorrow at his death. The respect and the sorrow we manifest on 
this occasion, are all from the heart. Yea, we feel more than we 
can utter. Nor shall we cease to feel, when the usual season of 
mourning is past. I say this in behalf not only of the particular rel- 
atives and friends, and of the American Board of Commis- 
sioners for Foreign Missions ; but of all those in our com- 
munity, who love the cause of Christ. I say it too in be- 
half of the missionaries we have sent forth, and in behalf of the 
multitudes who have been profited by their labors. In Palestine, 
in India, in the wilderness of America, and in the Isles of the Pa- 
cific, there will be great mourning for the beloved Evarts. The 
very sound of his name excites the love of ten thousand 
hearts. It is the name of a ivell known friend to the heathen, — 
a benefactor to the ivorld. Where is the man who holds a high- 
er place in the estimation of the wise and good, or whose death 
would cause more tears .'' Long will Christians remember, and 
love, and honor him ; and their children, taught by their example, 
will rise up and call him blessed. 

Far be it from me to bestow lofty and unmeasured applause 
upon any man, especially upon the man whose death we now de- 
plore. The highest honor I would give him is to say, that he was 



a Christian, and that, in imitation of his Lord and Master, he went 
about doing good. Higher praise than this I should feel to be 
incongruous. For our departed friend was of a humble heart 
and contrite spirit. In lowly prostration before God, he confess- 
ed his sins, mourned his unlikeness to Christ, disclaimed all per- 
sonal worthiness, and abhorred himself. Even while he remain- 
ed with us, he was among the last to seek or to desire applause. 
But now that he is gone to a world of perfect holiness, he will be 
forever deaf to all praise, except that which is ascribed to God 
and the Lamb. 

In this solemn service, my wish is, first of all, to glorify God, 
as the author of all goodness and usefulness in man ; and then, to 
contribute something to the improvement of Christians, particular- 
ly of those who now occupy, or who are hereafter to occupy im- 
portant public stations ; and to promote the sacred interests of 
Christianity at home and abroad. And this I shall attempt to 
do by showing, as far as my limits will admit, by what attributes 
of character, and by what arrangements of divine 'providence, wa 
are to account for the eminent usefulness of our lamented brother, 
the late corresponding Secretary of the American Board. 

The statements I shall make respecting him might be amply 
verified by a narrative of his life. But this does not fall within 
my design. Such a narrative, however, involving, as it naturally 
would, our Foreign-Missionary operations for twenty years, and 
other interests of great moment, will, I hope, be seasonably given 
to the public by some man, who has time and qualifications for so 
important an undertaking. 

In executing my design, I shall, in the first place, notice the 
intellectual character of our departed friend. This, as develop- 
ed during his collegiate course, and in his subsequent life, was of 
a high order. The faculties of his mind were originally strong 
and active, and were improved by a thorough literary and scientific 
education, and a regular course of study in law. There are few 
men, whose acquisitions are more extensive or more solid. On all 
subjects to which he turned his attention, whether literary, political, 
or religious, he formed clear and comprehensive views ; and wheth- 
er he undertook to write or speak, he exhibited the riches of his 



mind in a diction uniformly natural, perspicuous, and manly, and 
occasionally elegant and sublime. The extemporaneous addresses 
he made on public occasions were, as to manner, peculiarly mod- 
est and plain ; but always full of vivid, pertinent, and weighty 
thought. His eloquence was often impressive, and sometimes 
powerful. He was distinguished by patience and fairness in his 
investigations, by the clearness and force of his reasoning, 
and by correctness and despatch in business. In all his habits, 
whether of thought or action, he showed as litde liability to 
mistake, as can be expected of any man in this state of im- 
perfection. 

Such were his original powers of mind, and such the acqui- 
sitions he made, and the habits he formed by well-directed, per- 
severing study. 

Now it is upon the character of the mind, that our ability to do 
good in a great measure depends. If a man, in this respect, is 
superior to others, he will in all probability accomplish more 
good ; if inferior, less good. The usefulness of his labors, un- 
less prevented by special causes, will be very much in propor- 
tion to the amount of his intellectual powers and acquisitions. 

This is a subject, on which young men, in difierent stages of 
their education, frequently entertain very erroneous views. They 
look forward to their future profession with impatience, and are 
in haste to engage in its labors, because they apprehend, that 
spending so much time in preparation will detract from the good 
they might accomplish. This is a great mistake. For all ex- 
perience shows, that the whole of a man's usefulness is not so 
much according to the length of the time in which he is engaged 
in active service, as to the amount of his qualifications ; and 
that if any one would be sure to rise to the highest degree of 
usefulness of which he is capable, he must spend more time than 
is common in preparation, leaving so much less for action. 

The principle T have suggested is directly applicable to the 
case under consideration. The whole time which Mr. Evarts 
devoted to classical, scientific, and professional study unquestion- 
ably contributed to his usefulness. Even those acquisitions, which 
might have been thought less necessary, proved to be decidedly 



serviceable in some part of the work assigned to him. For ex- 
ample ; the knowledge he acquired of jurisprudence qualified 
him to perform that work of benevolence in behalf of the suffer- 
ing Indians, which will be so lasting an honor to him in the view 
of all who love justice, and feel for the oppressed. And if some 
of his previous studies did not in the same manner come into 
direct use in the cause to which he was devoted ; they still had 
an important influence in giving strength and elevation to the 
character of his mind, and excellence to his style of writing, and 
in preparing him better to devise and execute the measures, 
which were necessary to the accomplishment of his great object. 

In the second place, I shall notice vs^hat belonged to his moral 
and religious character. 

In the strict evangelical sense, Mr. E-varts was a good man. 
His life afforded the most satisfactory evidence that he had been 
born again 5 that he had experienced the renewing of the Holy 
Ghost ; that he repented of sin, and that, from a deep sense 
of guilt and misery, he believed in Christ as the only Saviour ; 
that he had communion with God, and rendered sincere and 
habitual obedience to his commands. 

Now this spirit of Christian piety, flowing from the renewal 
of his heart, contributed in the highest degree to his usefulness. 
It was this which gave a right direction to his intellectual powers, 
and led him to make a right use of his acquisitions. It was this, 
which constituted the great inward motive to a useful life. Had 
he possessed the same intellectual furniture, without piety ; his 
influence, instead of being beneficial, might have been directly 
mischievous. Like some very gifted men, he might have spent his 
life in spreading moral pestilence. And even if he had avoided this 
excess of iniquity, and honestly devoted himself to the business 
of the profession which he originally chose ; what more would he 
have done, than to pursue his own private interests ? The en- 
largement of the church, the universal spread of the gospel, and 
the salvation of the world, would have had no power over his 
heart. If you would see what, in that case, he would have been ; 
look at the multitude of those who are possessed of richly fur- 
nished minds, but are destitute of religious principle. The lives 



of such are spent in worldly indulgences. Even those actions 
which have a show of generosity, are dictated by a more refined 
selfishness ; while their minds are strangers to holy love. Be- 
hold, then, the work which sovereign grace accomplishes ! When 
God renews the hearts of sinners, he does a work of great love, 
not only to them, but to the world. He acts as a friend to the 
universe. They who are renewed have the spirit of sincere 
and active benevolence, and so are led, by a motive of exhaust- 
less energy, to seek the highest interests of man. They bear the 
image of him wlio went about doing good. When that beloved 
friend, whose death we bow mourn, was renewed by the divine 
Spirit, his heart, being turned from worldly, selfish objects, was 
brought under the influence of love to God and love to man. 
At his conversion he commenced a course of action, which vi^as 
to fall in with a great system of benevolence, and in the end to 
promote the salvation of untold mukitudes in Christian and hea- 
then lands. 

But holy afi:ection, in order to produce its proper effects, must 
not only exist, but must exist in a lively, active state. Benevolence, 
feeble and dormant, or active only on particular occasions, can 
accomplish but little. The good to be accomplished by the 
agency of Mr. Evarts required a mind enlightened and purified 
in an uncommon degree ; — it required a benevolence steady, ar- 
dent, and invincible. And such was the character to which, 
through the grace of God, he was formed. The affection which 
predominated in his breast, next to a supreme love to God, was 
compassion to the souls of men, and strong desire for the sal- 
vation of the heathen. This was the inward power which mov- 
ed him. It was not a feverish heat, but the even pulsation and 
glow of health. What others might do from sudden excitement, 
or the spur of the occasion, he did from principle, — principle 
which was strong, uniform, and enduring, — which was the same 
morning and evening, at noon, and in the wakeful hours of night, 
— the same at the beginning and the end of the year, — the same 
in prosperity and in adversity. The moral principle which actu- 
ated him was as permanent, as the faculties of his soul ; yea, as 
permanent as that indwelling Spirit of God, which caused its ex- 



istence. Such a principle of action is essential to the highest de- 
gree of usefulness in any condition of life. And in any condi- 
tion, it will have a salutary influence. It is the object of God's 
complacency ; and through his wise and immutable constitution, 
it will insure happiness to the possessor, and diffuse it among oth- 
ers. In whatever degree, or in whatever circumstances it may 
exist, it will not be lost. Though it lies concealed in the shades 
of private life, and shows itself only in the little circle of domes- 
tic duties, or in the exercises of secret devotion ; still it con- 
tributes to the blessedness of the universe. 

But the religious principle of which I speak, was specially 
important and necessary to the chief agent in our Foreign- 
Missionary enterprise. In connexion with others, he had to 
accomplish a work of uncommon magnitude, and to encounter 
numberless and formidable difficulties. He was called to 
guide the vessel over a tempestuous and dangerous sea, when 
strong counter currents were to be stemmed, sudden chang- 
es of wind and weather to be encountered, and rocks and shoals 
to be avoided. In such an enterprise, it was indispensable that 
he should possess a principle of great firmness and strength ; a 
principle which would enable him to meet difficulties calmly j^ 
which would raise him above all discouragements ; and which 
would contain within itself an exhaustless power of excitement, 
when all the natural springs of action failed. Such a principle 
he had. It consisted in the religious affection, which the Spirit 
of God produced and cherished in his heart. It was an affection 
which allied him to apostles and martyrs, and to Christ himself, 
and prepared him to endure any labors or sufferings, which were 
necessary to the welfare of his fellow men. 

But I must notice one more particular attribute of his moral 
and religious character, which was of great importance to his 
usefulness ; and that is, his scrupulous and inflexible integrity. 

Tiiis trait in his character was so manifest, that it raised him 
above suspicion. All who had opportunity to know his charac- 
ter, acknowledged him to be an Israelite indeed, in whom was no 
guile. The name of Jeremiah Evarts was associated in the 
public mind with a feeling of safety in regard to aiiy interests 



which might be committed to his care. This evident simplicity 
and uprightness of character freed him from the embarrassments 
and obstructions, which the suspicions of others always throw in 
the way of a man's usefulness, and secured to him the unwaver- 
ing confidence and cordial support not only of his particular as- 
sociates, but of all those in the community who were attached to 
the cause of missions. And let me say, that this manifest up- 
rightness of character, which was indispensable to his success 
through the whole period of our Foreign-Missionary operations, 
was so in a preeminent degree, when, at the commencement of 
those operations, he was intrusted with the pecuniary concerns of 
the Board. To carry into effect in any good measure, the great 
design of the Board, it was necessary that large sums of money 
should be contributed, and sent in charity to various and distant 
countries ; — a business hardly known among us at that time, and 
not easily accomplished even in the most favorable circumstances. 
Now who can suppose that both the rich and the poor would 
have voluntarily united from year to year, as they actually did, in 
raising the requisite funds, had they indulged a suspicion of the 
integrity or disinterestedness of the man to whom the funds were 
to be intrusted, and who was, from the beginning, one of the 
principal agents in conducting all the concerns of the Missions. 

Having thus described the intellectual, and the moral and re- 
ligious character of our lamented brother, and shown its impor- 
tant connexion with his usefulness, I proceed to say, thirdly, that 
he had a remarkable completeness and symmetry of character. 

We not unfrequently meet with men, who are distinguished 
for particular virtues, while in regard to others they are notoriously 
deficient ; — who have prominent excellencies, and prominent 
faults. There are some, who are endued with ardor, boldness, 
and disinterestedness, and other shining qualities for public life, — 
who are not to be subdued by opposition, nor daunted at the 
prospect of suffering, nor corrupted by bribes ; who yet are sub- 
ject to obvious failings in their private character. Some, who 
possess a variety of estimable qualities, have an irritability of tem- 
per which is excited on the slightest occasion. They are wanting in 
meekness and gentleness, in patience, and sympathy, and forgive- 
2 



10 

ness. Some show that they are governed by selfishness, pride, 
and ambition. In regard to others, it is evident, that the applauses 
bestowed upon them have produced an uncommon growth of 
self-complacency and vanity, and that, in opposition to a divine 
precept, they esteem themselves better than others. Some, again, 
have a covetous, or a suspicious temper ; or they are slaves to 
their bodily appetites ; are wanting in Christian simplicity ; or 
subject to rashness, fickleness, or indiscretion. Such is the lam- 
entable fact in regard to the generality of those who in various 
respects exhibit valuable traits of character. But may I not say 
with propriety, it was otherwise with Mr. Evarts ? Every one 
acquainted with his public life knows full well, that he was pos- 
sessed of manly resolution, firmness, and activity. But he was 
possessed, in an equal degree, of humility, forbearance, and gen- 
tleness. He had as much of the amiable, as of the dignified. 
Who ever acquired a more perfect control over his passions, or 
maintained a more unruffled, equal state of mind ? And he was, 
I doubt not, as solicitous to govern himself according to the pre- 
cepts of. God's word, in his thoughts, and feelings, and most se- 
cret actions, as in those parts of his fife which were open to pub- 
lic scrutiny. 

The attribute of character which I have now dfescribed, was 
of the highest consequence to his usefulness. By securing the 
approbation and favor of God, and the esteem and confidence of 
the community, it invested him with power to do good. Surely 
it was no small matter, that he should carry a character of such 
completeness into that high station which was allotted to him, and 
should bring it to bear upon all the interests with which he was 
intrusted. 

But I am to speak also of the symmetry of his character. 
He not only had the various qualities which belong to a good 
character, but had them in just proportion. How different 
was he from those, who seem to have an exact conscience respect- 
ing one class of obligations, but are inattentive to others ', from 
those who manifest much regard to that which is appropriately 
religious, and but little to that which relates to common life, — 
who reverence the Sabbath, and regularly attend to its public ser- 



11 

vices, but are chargeable with irregularities of temper and con- 
duct during the week. And on the other hand, how different 
was he from those, who are exact in respect to their domestic and 
social obligations, but regardless of those which are of a more 
public nature, or more directly religious. Let me not, however, 
be understood to imply that he had an excellence of character, 
which was free from all deficiency and all blemish. To say that 
he attained perfection, or that he was near being perfect, would 
be to contradict the deep, inward convictions he had of his own 
failings and sins, and his sincere confessions, and penitence, and 
self-abhorrence before God ; and it would be to overlook that 
pure and spiritual law which no Christian on earth perfectly 
obeys in heart and in action, for a single day, or a single moment 
of his life. But if the character of Mr. Evarts is viewed in com- 
parison with that of good men generally, I think it must appear to 
great advantage in respect to completeness and symmetry. Who 
that knew him, ever thought that any part of what constitutes a 
good character was wanting in him, or that some of his intellec- 
tual or moral qualities grew to excess, while others, equally im- 
portant, were below their proper measure ? This excellence of 
character was doubtless owing in some measure to the influence 
of favorable circumstances, and more, to his own diligent and 
skilful efforts ; but it was owing chiefly and ultimately, to the 
good pleasure of God, and the operation of his Spirit. To this 
divine cause we must attribute all human excellence, and all the 
efficacy of human exertion. 

The public character of Mr. Evarts exhibited the symmetry 
abovementioned, in one very important respect. With as much 
ardor as was necessary to the highest degree of effort which 
could be permanently sustained, he united a sound judgment. 
Had the momentous concerns of our Foreign Missions been 
committed to a man of more zeal, and less discretion ; the con- 
sequence might have been disastrous. There is a degree of 
heat, which is apt to discompose the mind, and to produce disor- 
der. If a man's ardor goes beyond the bounds of moderation, 
and his zeal breaks loose from his judgment ; the world will be 
afraid to trust him. He may have more active power, and for 



12 

a time, accomplish more good, than any other man. Still it will 
be dangerous to confide in him j because, in one rash hour, he 
may expose to ruin all the interests committed to his care. The 
zeal of Mr. Evarts did indeed rise to a high degree of warmth ; 
but it had no enthusiastic effervescence, no convulsive starts, no 
violence. It was just sufficient to put his mind into the fittest 
state for deliberation and effort ; — just sufficient to afford the ne- 
cessary excitement to his reason, his invention, and all his active 
powers. It was invariably associated with the most tranquil ope- 
rations of a well furnished intellect ; and it led him to adopt a sys- 
tem of measures of as high a character, as existing circumstances 
would admit ; a system which he pursued from year to year, and 
through successive years, with unfailing resolution, and with in- 
creasing evidence that it was both wisaand practicable. 

Permit me to add, that the general aspect of his mind which 
I have noticed, appeared in the sober and scriptural views he en- 
tertained respecting the doctrines of Christianity. No man was 
more free from sectarian prejudice, and a pertinacious attachment 
to old opinions. And yet no man was more open and determin- 
ed in opposition to novelties in religion, or more grieved at any 
departure from the simplicity of the gospel. On all questions of 
controversy at the present day, whether of primary or secondary 
consequence, his habit of thinking was at once cautious and deci- 
ded, and was conformed to the settled orthodoxy of New En- 
gland, and, in my apprehension, to the dictates of reason and rev- 
elation. His knowledge of theology was so extensive, and his 
manner of reasoning, both on polemic and practical points, was 
so candid and perspicuous, that his conversation was highly priz- 
ed by the most intelligent Christians, as a source of pleasure and 
improvement. It is hardly necessary to add, that the sober and 
judicious opinions, which he was known to entertain on the sub- 
ject of religion, procured for him a still higher place in the esteem 
of the community, and gave an additional influence to his efforts 
in the cause of Missions. 

I have now noticed the chief of those intellectual and moral 
properties which prepared our departed friend for eminent useful- 
ness. But of what utility would all these excellent properties 



13 

have been, had they not been brought into actual exercise ? How 
little good comparatively would he have done, had he been left in 
the shades of private life, or had he been chiefly devoted to the 
acquisition of wealth by professional labor? But the God who 
made him, and who ordered all the circumstances of his early 
life, and furnished him with so many valuable qualifications, 
designed him for a particular work, and in due time prepar- 
ed the way for him to enter upon it. It was a short time after 
he came to this vicinity, that a Foreign Mission from Amer- 
ica was commenced, and the management of its interests commit- 
ted to a Board of Commissioners. From the first, Mr. Eva.rts 
was employed in the executive business of the Board. Besides 
being Treasurer, he was intimately associated with Dr. Worces- 
ter, the Corresponding Secretary, in conducting the correspon- 
dence, and in all the concerns of our growing missions. By this 
course of labor for about ten years, he became well qualified for 
the office of Secretary, when it was vacated by the death of Dr. 
Worcester, and when the burden of its responsibilities and cares 
had been so much increased by the increase of missionary inter- 
est in our country. This was the station for which divine provi- 
dence raised him up, and to which the peculiar structure of 
his mind was every way suited. In this station all his intellectual 
powers and moral principles were brought into constant and vigor- 
ous action, and his whole character, as might have been reasona- 
bly expected, experienced a sensible and rapid growth. It was 
by the labors of this station, — for which he had been so long pre- 
paring, and for which he was so eminently qualified, that he help- 
ed to produce those great results which have been witnessed, and 
arrived at his proper degree of usefulness. 

After Mr. Evarts entered on the station assigned him, he 
consecrated his time and influence to the cause of Missions among 
the heathen. This was his object. Towards this his thoughts, 
his studies, his exertions directly tended. I need not tell you 
how much it would have detracted from his usefulness, had he 
connected other things with this, as favorite objects of pursuit ; 
had he, for example, indulged a literary ambition, a taste for the 
fine arts, or a fondness for wealth. But he had chosen his ob- 



14 

ject ; and in point of excellence, the world had nothing that 
could be compared with it. To this he devoted his life. Not 
that he disregarded any private obligations ; — not that he under- 
valued any other object of Christian benevolence or patriotism, 
or lost his love for literature and science, or for any thing which 
could adorn the mind, or promote the comfort of society ; — not 
that he was wanting in punctuality, or inattentive to any of the 
courtesies which belong to social or domestic intercourse. He 
showed, that a man in the most important station has no occasion 
to neglect his less important duties. He showed, that a great 
man has no need to have either great faults, or little faults. But 
to whatever other objects he occasionally turned his attention, he 
never lost sight of the cause of Missions. To this he devoted 
his first thoughts, his warmest affections, and his best labors. 
He acted on the principle, that if a man would accomplish the 
highest degree of good, he must have only one great object, and 
must pursue that object with steady resolution, and zeal, and per- 
severance. 

The object to which he thus devoted himself, and the efforts 
which he made, were of such a nature as to be followed by 
durable effects, — by a continuity of good. This may perhaps 
be called Christian, or spiritual economy. We have but limited 
powers of body and mind, a limited time, limited means and op- 
portunities to do good. Now it is the dictate of Christian wis- 
dom, that we should fix upon that mode of doing -good, which 
will, on the whole, turn to the best account. A man may suc- 
cessfully employ his time and talents in promoting the temporal 
welfare of his fellow men. But the object he seeks is not dura- 
ble. It may be something now ; but soon it passes away, and is 
forgotten. Such is the transitory nature of all worldly interest, 
and worldly pleasure. Though we expend ever so much time, 
and talent, and labor upon it, what is it but vanity in the end ? 

Now certainly it is not good economy, it is not according to 
sound wisdom, that we should fill up the little space of time, and 
use the little power we have, in pursuit of a good which has no 
solid worth, and will last but a moment. If there is a good 
which is really excellent and durable, let us choose that. It was 



15 

the appointment of Christ, that his apostles should bear much 
fruit, and that their fruit should remain. What they did, produc- 
ed permanent effects ; — it conduced to a good which was spiritual 
and everlasting. Our beloved Secretary labored for the same 
object. He was of one heart with the apostles, who labored to 
save those that were lost. His efforts, like theirs, were upon a 
large scale. Had he promoted the salvation of a single individu- 
al, he would have done a great and good work. But his efforts 
were directed to the highest good of communities and nations ; 
to the salvation of the world. And if respect is had to the wis- 
dom of the measures which were adopted, and which were all 
calculated for permanent effect ; — if respect is had to the fact, 
that the extensive and systematic operations, in which he was so 
intensely engaged, and which have already been attended with 
such animating success, are to lead on to other measures, far 
more extensive, and far more successful — that the missionary 
zeal, which he helped to kindle up in the church, is to burn with 
a still purer and brighter flame ; and if respect is had to the un- 
questionable fact, that his labors were, by the gracious appoint- 
ments of heaven, closely connected with the ultimate overthrow 
of idolatry, and the establishment of Christ's kingdom in pagan 
lands ; the good resulting from his agency will appear too great 
for human language to describe, or an angel's mind to compre- 
hend. 

In pursuing the object which was so dear to his heart, he was 
particularly aware, that he needed the cordial assistance of fellow 
Christians around him, and of the community at large. The in- 
fluence of a man in any station, especially in one that is public 
and very difficult, may be increased in a degree above computa- 
tion by being skilfully united with the influence of others. We 
are social beings, and by the very constitution of our nature, are 
mutually dependent. Let human agency in any case be com- 
pletely insulated, and it can have no efficiency. To accomplish 
any thing important, we must act together. What is deficient in 
one man, is to be supplied by others, — who, though not superior 
to him in the general attributes of character, may be able to af- 
ford him the counsel and aid which he needs. Mr. Evarts 



IG 

successfully availed himself of this important principle ; and he 
always did it with evident satisfaction. Who was ever more un- 
assuming ; or more free from that self-sufSciency, and folly, 
which makes a man reluctant to acknowledge himself indebted 
in any way to the judgment or foresight of others ? Who ever 
came nearer to a full compliance with the direction of the apos- 
tle, that, in lowliness of minfl, each should esteem others better 
than himself? His truly modest and humble disposition, joined 
with his deep solicitude that every thing should be done in the 
best manner, rendered him very desirous of counsel and aid from 
his brethren, and heartily willing to own himself under obligation 
to them, even where it was evident that he was the man who 
possessed the best information, and the highest degree of wis- 
dom, in regard to the subject under consideration. 

But while he looked to his fellow Christians for counsel and 
assistance, it conduced still more to his success, that, in humble, 
fervent prayer, he sought help of God. This might have been 
mentioned as belonging to his religious character. But I have 
rather chosen to mention it here, as constituting an important 
part of those efforts, by which he contributed most effectually to 
the success of the Missionary cause. He had a deep sense of 
his weakness and dependence, and of the utter fruitlessness of 
all human endeavours, without the divine blessing. In a manner 
very far removed from all extravagance, and at the same time 
furnishing the strongest motives to devout importunity, he believ- 
ed in the efficacy of prayer. And his belief was grounded on 
the best possible reasons, — the immutable promise of God, and 
the actual course of his providence. The devout supplications 
which he and his associates in office presented to God in all their 
meetings for business, together with the monthly, and weekly, 
and daily prayers of the great body of Christians in this land, 
and in other lands, have undoubtedly exerted a higher and more 
efficacious influence, than any other means, in promoting the 
spread of the gospel and the conversion of the heathen world. 
Without the spirit of prayer, and the blessing of God which it 
secures, other efforts would have proved abortive. Suppose 
prayer had been omitted, and the time spent in this duty by the 



17 

officers and members of the Board, by ministers, and all the 
friends of missions, had been spent in some other way. yea, in 
any other way ; what would have been the consequence, but a 
total failure of the Missionary enterprise ? All our exertions 
could have effected nothing ; or I might say, no proper exertions 
would ever have been made. Judging by the word of God, we 
cannot doubt, that sincere, fervent prayer, though by an unseen 
influence, really does more towards accomplishing the great ob- 
jects of benevolence, than all human endeavours beside. For 
what can human endeavours do, — what can talents or attainments 
do, without the help of God ? And how can that help be obtain- 
ed, except by prayer ? 

Thus, in attempting to perform the part assigned to me on 
the present occasion, I have noticed those attributes of character, 
and those other circumstances, which contributed most directly to 
the usefulness of the beloved and honored man, whose death we 
deplore. 

Let us now endeavour to derive profit to ourselves from the 
subject which we have contemplated, and to bring it to bear, with 
a salutary influence, upon all the sacred interests with which we 
are connected. — Among the many useful lessons which it is suit- 
ed to teach, I can suggest only the following. 

1. We see how Christians may gi-oiv in grace, and become 
eminently holy. 

On this point permit me to address myself particularly to 
those young men, who are coming forward to labor in the cause 
of Christ. Our departed friend attained to eminent holiness ; 
and why may not you ? What advantages had he to grow in 
grace, which are not within your reach ? What motive urged 
him to diligence in the service of God, which does not urge you ? 
What divine assistance did he obtain and enjoy, which you may 
not obtain in the same way, and enjoy in the same measure ? As 
God has provided for you the same Bible, the same Sabbath, the 
same throne of grace, the same salutary discipline of his provi- 
dence, and the same influences of his Spirit ; why may you not, 
by proper diligence, attain to the same degree of holiness ? 
3 



18 

But there is one particular view of this subject, which I con- 
sider to be of special importance. The employment of Mr. 
EvARTS was unquestionably among the most powerful causes of 
his growth in piety. He was active in doing good — was continu- 
ally consulting and laboring for the salvation of men, particularly 
the heathen. This brought into Hvely exercise all the pious 
affections of his heart, and so contributed to increase them. 
And if he was occasionally so engrossed with his great object, as 
to forget himself; his sanctification was not impeded on that ac- 
count. — ^If a Christian wishes to advance in holiness, let him en- 
gage, with all his heart, in some benevolent and pious work. As 
far as may be, let him choose his calling with a view to this im- 
portant end. At the present day, there is a great variety of ways 
in which good may be done. There can be no lack of oppor- 
tunity to any. Let every Christian, then, be devoted to some 
work of benevolence. And if he aspires to improve his charac- 
ter in the highest degree ; let him be active in such a way, as 
will require him to exercise zeal and fortitude, to practise self- 
denial, and endure sufferings. This is the way, and according 
to the wise appointment of God, the only way, to rise high in 
spiritual attainments. If then we covet the best gifts of heaven, 
let us use the right means to obtain them. If it is our desire to 
mortify sin, and to cultivate a spirit of elevated piety ; let us en- 
gage with ardor in works of piety. And let us take care to pur- 
sue a course, which will not only be favorable to the good dispo- 
sitions which we wish to cherish, but directly opposed to the sin- 
ful propensities and habits which we wish to overcome. Are we 
conscious of a culpable indolence ? Then let us do good in a 
way which will require diligent personal effort. Have we an in- 
ordinate love of money ? Then let us be frequent and liberal in 
our contributions, and so diminish those treasures which are the 
idols of our hearts. And if any are exposed to feelings of vani- 
ty on account of their making donations which are public and 
honorable ; let them abound also in smaller gifts, in private chari- 
ties to the destitute, not letting their left hand know what their 
right hand doeth, and thus guarding their minds against the hurt- 
ful influence of applause. — If it has been our habit to treat our- 



19 

selves softly and delicately, and to make our own gratification a 
special object of pursuit, and if in consequence of this, we are 
deficient in the more manly, noble virtues ; then let us prefer ser- 
vices which are somewhat severe, and never start back from any 
toil, hardship or danger which may meet us in the path of duty. 
— If our hearts are prone to indulge feelings of distrust in regard 
to the perfections or the providence of God ; it will be of par- 
ticular importance to us to pursue a course, which will often 
compel us to give up every ground of confidence but the prom- 
ise and faithfulness of God, and to rely on him alone for the sup- 
ply of our wants, the relief of our distresses, and the success of 
our undertakings. The same might be said in regard to other 
particulars. Now it is obvious, that such a work as that in which 
our departed friend was enlisted, is eminently fitted to promote 
the divine life. Any one who, from pure motives, makes a full 
surrender of himself to the cause of Missions, and, either at 
home or abroad, devotes his talents and his life to the salvation of 
the heathen, will be under the best advantages to grow in the 
spirit of piety. And it will doubtless appear in the great day, 
when all characters, and all which has helped to form them, shall 
be revealed, that the holiness which eminent saints in all periods 
of the church have attained, was owing in no small degree, under 
God, to the exertions they made and the sufferings they endured 
for the present and eternal welfare of their fellow men. 

2. We see that sincere devotion to God, and diligence in 
doing good, are followed by the most happy results. Great peace 
have they who love God's law. They who forsake all for Christ 
shall receive an hundred fold even in the present time. Our de- 
ceased brother found this true in his own case. He enjoyed the 
cordial affection and confidence not only of the Prudential Com- 
mittee and the American Board, but of all the friends of Mis- 
sions and the friends of Christ. And he had the respect of the 
public generally; — not only of those who agreed with him in re- 
ligious opinion and feeling, but of those who differed from him ; 
and not only of those who favored the interest he sought, but of 
those who opposed it. In addition to all this, he had the pleas- 



20 

ure of being continually conversant with objects which were con- 
genial to his taste ; — objects which were gratifying to his benevo- 
lent and pious heart ; and the pleasure of witnessing the unex- 
pected success of the Missionary cause. He was also favored 
with a quiet, contented mind, with the consolations of hope, and 
with many tokens of the divine presence and approbation. He 
was blessed of God in his family, and in his own soul. And 
when we come to the closing scene of his life, we may well 
exclaim, — " Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright ; 
for the end of that man is peace." The inward composure 
which he habitually enjoyed after he devoted himself to the 
service of Christ, he continued in a remarkable degree to en- 
joy during his last sickness. The prevailing state of his mind 
may be learnt in some measure from the following paper, which he 
wrote, Feb. 27, 1 831 , it being the Sabbath, half past eleven, A. M. 
He was on board the ship Fama, in sight of Abaco, one of the 
Bahama Islands, twelve days after he sailed from Boston for Cuba. 

" Daily, and many times a day, I have been disposed, I trust, 
to acknowledge the goodness of God, and to consecrate myself 
anew to his service. I had thought of making a formal and 
written consecration of myself to the Lord this forenoon : but my 
mind is so weighed down by ray feeble body, that I can write 
nothing, except of the simplest kind, and cannot adequately 
dwell upon the amazing theme of being a servant of God, and 
of having Him for my portion forever." 

At half past 3, P. M. he wrote thus, — " We have turned the 
south west end of Abaco. I have looked at this work of God, 
which it is not likely I shall see again ; — and have turned my 
thoughts many times to the great and blessed Creator of all. 

" Here, in this sea, I consecrate myself to God as my chief 
good : — to him as my heavenly Father, infinitely kind and ten- 
der of his children ; — to him as my kind and merciful Redeem- 
er, by whose blood and merits alone J do hope for salvation ; — ^to 
him as the beneficent renewer and sanctifier of the saved. I im- 
plore the forgiveness of my numerous and aggravated transgres- 
sions ; and I ask that my remaining time and strength may be 
employed for the gloiy of God my portion, and for the good of 
his creatures." 



21 

" Whether I make my grave on the land, or in the ocean, I 
submit cheerfully to Him. It will be as He pleases ; and so it 
should be. I pray that the circumstances of my death, be it soon- 
er or later, may be favorable to religion ; that I may not deceive 
myself in the great concerns of my soul ; — that I may depart in 
peace, and be received, through infinite mercy, to the everlasting 
kingdom of my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen." 

In the near prospect of death he showed a most happy tran- 
quillity. He had that peace of God which passeth all under- 
standing. Who would not think himself rewarded for the toils 
and sufferings of a whole life, yea, of a thousand years, by what 
this faithful servant of Christ was permitted to enjoy just before 
his decease, when God caused so wonderful a light to shine 
upon his soul. He was at that time in a kind. Christian family 
in Charleston S. C, but far removed from his beloved partner 
and children, whom he had just before particularly and most de- 
voutly commended to God. Seeming to be nearly exhausted, 

he very tenderly expressed his affection for his Saviour 

Soon after, he burst forth with expressions of rap- 
ture which cannot be described. " Praise him, praise him, 
praise him in a way which you know not of." And when it was 
said, " You will soon see Jesus as he is, and will then know how 
to praise him ;" he exclaimed, — " Wonderful, wonderful, won- 
derful glory ! We cannot comprehend — wonderful glory ! I 
will praise, I will praise him ! Wonderful — glory — Je- 
sus reigns." 

This was no vision of enthusiasm — no feverish excitement of 
passion — no delirium of a heated brain. What man was ever 
better shielded, than he, against all mental delusion, and all undue 
excitement ? At that time in particular, a variety of circumstances 
which might be related, proved beyond any doubt, that he was per- 
fectly rational and self-possessed. That which he experienced was 
doubtless like what apostles, and martyrs, and eminent saints have 
often experienced in a dying hour, when, through the special in- 
fluence of the Holy Spirit, they have had clear views of the glory 
of their Saviour, and of their eternal inheritance, and have earnest- 
ly desired to be absent from the body, and present with the Lord. 



22 

May God give me, in may last moments, what our dear brother 
enjoyed, when that vision of glory burst upon his astonished^view, 
and I will gladly bid farewell to all that the world contains. The 
joy he tasted was unspeakable and full of glory. Even before he 
left the body, he seemed to stand upon the threshold of heaven. 

And what, think you, must be the enjoyment of such a Chris- 
tian in heaven, — with a capacity so enlarged, — with the powers of 
reason so active, — with affections and desires so pure, and so el- 
evated, — what must be his enjoyment in the presence of him 
whom his soul loveth, in the society of angels and saints, and in 
the society of no small number, brought to that happy world by 
means of his faithful labors ! Neither eye hath seen, nor ear 
heard, nor can the heart of man conceive what such a saint en- 
joys, when he comes to be where Jesus is. Oh ! what rest after 
years of wearisome labor, and toil, and conflict with sin ! Oh ! 
what quietness and ease, after so much sickness and pain ! Oh ! 
what blessedness, to be free forever from the feehng, and the sight 
of moral pollution, to be like the Saviour, and to see him as he is, 
and to drink of the river of pleasure which flows at the right hand 
of God! 

To the mourning widow, and children, and other relatives, 
there are unfailing sources of consolation. They have sympa- 
thizing friends ; a present and merciful God ; the great and pre- 
cious promises of his word ; and a throne of grace. They have 
the happiness of knowing that Jesus reigns, and that all things will 
work together for good to them who love God, and are called ac- 
cording to his purpose. Through the mercy of heaven, these 
are the rich consolations which afflicted Christians commonly en- 
joy, and they are sufiicient to quiet the agitated breast, and to 
sooth every grief. But the mourning relatives in this case have 
consolations which are not common. When a man dies, yea, 
when a good man dies ; how seldom is it the fact, that he leaves 
a character entirely unblemished, even in the view of his most af- 
fectionate and partial friends ! And if in the fullness of their hearts, 
they begin to speak of him in the language of high respect and 
honor, they are soon checked by the recollection of something 



23 

which marred his Christian reputation. They do indeed cherish 
a most cordial esteem and love for his amiable and virtuous quali- 
ties ; but they sigh, that their thoughts cannot range with delight 
over his whole character and life. They cannot but regard it as 
a subject of deep regret, that he fell so far short of that complete 
excellence, which they wished him to attain. But through the 
grace of God, such was not the fact in regard to our departed 
friend. The sorrow, which the afflicted relatives feel for the loss of 
one so dear to them, is not embittered by the recollection of any 
noticeable failings in his character, or any palpable errors in his 
conduct. Theirs is the happiness of knowing, that the beloved 
partner, parent, and friend, who has been removed from their 
sight, was not only adorned with a combination of excellencies, 
but was remarkably free from blemishes. They must ever regard 
it as a precious blessing, that they have been so closely allied 
to one, whose example was so pure, so shining, and so attractive. 
And they must ever find the events of his private and public life, 
a subject of the most delightful and improving reflection. It was 
a life that will bear to be examined, and that deserves to be cop- 
ied. What a rich inheritance to his bereaved family ! While 
they remember the great goodness of God in this respect, and 
their hearts overflow with gratitude ; the bitterness of their grief will 
pass away. The Lord grant, that they may be so happy, through 
the remainder of life, as to imitate the lovely example which has 
been placed before their eyes, and by humble, active piety, to 
follow that dear friend, who through faith and patience inherits 
the promises. 

To the members of the Prudential Committee and other Offi- 
cers of the Board, this occasion is connected with so many subjects 
of intense interest, that I know not where to begin, or where to 
end. It must, dear brethren, be a source of the sincerest satisfac- 
tion to us, that the chief agency in directing and executing the 
momentous business of our Foreign Missions, was committed to 
a man, who possessed such qualifications, and in whom not only 
his immediate associates, but the Christian community had such 
confidence. In this great and difficult work, it has been our hap- 



24 

py lot to be united with one, whose high intellectual endowments 
were combined with the most lovely social qualities ; — whose 
friendship was uniform and undissembled, — not overstrained in ar- 
dor, but pure, impartial, and truly Christian ; and who was a pattern 
of meekness, patience, and fidelity. You well know it has long 
been the public sentiment, that no man can be found whose char- 
acted is more upright and disinterested, than that of Mr. Evarts. 
After twenty years intimate acquaintance with him, and after 
having been, most of us, associated with him for ten years in con- 
ducting the concerns of the Board, we can give our united testi- 
mony to the justice of this sentiment ; and can say of him, as 
truly as of any man, " that in simplicity and godly sincerity, not 
by fleshly wisdom, but by the grace of God, he had his conversa- 
tion in the world." 

But the man whose name is so dear to us, and whose labors 
have been so useful, has been removed from us by the stroke of 
death. Neither the high importance of his office, nor his eminent 
endowments, nor the affections of his friends, nor the prayers of 
those who love Zion, could prevent or delay his departure. He 
is gone from us, and we shall see his face no more. The death 
of such a man at such a time, we feel to be a very afflictive and 
distressing event. — But though in itself so afflictive, it naturally 
suggests subjects, which are fitted to awaken lively gratitude to 
God, and to encourage us in the work of spreading the gospel. 
For we cannot but remember, that God in mercy gave what he 
has now taken away. And is it a small matter, that, at the criti- 
cal period when the Foreign Mission from America was commenc- 
ed, and during the first years of its progress, divine Providence 
raised up such men as Worcester and Evarts, to be the chief 
agents in the work ? Where is the society, — where the benevo- 
lent enterprise, which has in this and other respects, enjoyed more 
visible tokens of the divine favor ? The services of such a man, 
as our late Secretary, must be important to any cause, at any 
time. But the work which the friends of Missions undertook 
twenty years ago, was a work of vast magnitude and difficulty. 
A mere kindling up of temporary zeal, — a few desultory efforts 
could accomplish nothing. There was a necessity for a system 



25 

of operations, wisely planned, and ably and peiseveringly exe- 
cuted. The undertaking called for men of large views, and 
sound judgment, — of devoted piety and invincible resolution ; 
men trained to sober deliberation, and efficient action, and 
not likely to fail either in concerting or in executing meas- 
ures; men of so much fire, as to warm the hearts of others, and 
yet so cool and discreet, as to secure their confidence ; men too, 
who could bring weight of character lo the work, instead of de- 
pending on the work for character. Now that God in his provi- 
dence raised up just such men, as the new and arduous enter- 
prise required, and that he continued one of them ten years, and 
the other tvi^enty, as principal agents of the Board, and with a 
success, which has filled the Christian world with admiration and 
joy ; — this, brethren, we must record as among the most visible 
and encouraging tokens of God's special favor. — Shall we then 
faint under the stroke of his hand ? Shall we look forward to the 
future with distrust and fear, and be ready to abandon the cause 
of Missions ? Shall we even pursue that cause with less zeal, or 
less hope of success ? No. Far be it from us, that we should 
thus dishonor the name of God. It is enough for us that, al- 
though good men die, the Lord lives, and is the same yesterday, 
to-day, and forever. The cause to which we are devoted is his 
cause. We have engaged in it in obedience to his command. 
And we go forward in our endeavours to promote it, with full re- 
liance on his promised aid. We are confident, that he who has 
all power in heaven and earth, will be present with us in every 
emergency ; that he will prepare men for every post of useful- 
ness ; that he will crown with success whatever is done for the 
enlargement of his church, and finally cause the gospel to tri- 
umph in every place. 

How often, brethren, have you seen the worthlessness of a 
life devoted to ambitious and worldly pursuits ! See now, how 
useful and happy is a life devoted to God ! See how much one man 
of fervent piety and active benevolence may accomplish in a short 
time ! The character we have contemplated is a good pattern for 
all men in public stations. Let us copy it faithfully. Let the 
sober maxims, the principles of enlarged and disinterested benev- 

4 



26 

oleuce, which governed the conduct ol* our beloved Secretary, 
pervade all our counsels and labors. 

Every hour we are employed in a work so benevolent and 
sacred, should remind us of our high obligations, and increase 
our endeavours to be holy as Christ is holy. When we look 
back upon days and years that are past, and remember how near 
we have been to an eminently good man, now in heaven ; 
we should be incited to do with our might whatsoever our hand 
findeth to do, and to be ready for the coming of our Lord. In 
imitation of our beloved brother, who now rests from his labors, 
let us strive to have our great work so finished, and all our affairs, 
whether public or private, so arranged and settled, that when our 
last day comes, we may be free from anxious cares, and may be 
able to say with a peace which the world cannot give. Lord 
Jesus, receive my spirit. 

To conclude. Dear brethren and friends, we have been calling 
to mind the piety and usefulness of a fellow mortal, and have been 
considering him as a suitable pattern for our imitation. The time 
we have devoted to the contemplation of so excellent a character, 
will, I hope, conduce to our improvement. — But be it remembered, 
thei-e is a character vastly more exalted. There is an excellence 
and glory, both intellectual and moral, infinitely surpassing all that is 
human. It shines forth in this fair creation above us and around 
us. It shines forth especially in the face of Jesus Christ. 
Now while we look with deilight upon human excellence, shall we 
close our eyes to that which is divine ? While we gaze upon a 
dim taper, shall vve be blind to the light of day ? Are we filled 
with admiration at the endowments of man, who is of yesterday ? 
What adoring thoughts then should we have of the high and 
lofty One ivho inhabiteth eternity ! Before that great and glorious 
Being, the greatest of men, and the greatest of angels, are as the 
small dust of the balance. The brightest excellence vve behold 
in creation is only a ray from the inexhaustible fountain of light. 
— Have we confidence in a child of earth, because he evinces a 
small degree of intelligence and faithfulness ? What unwaver- 
ing trust then should we repose in God, whose understanding is 



27 

infinite, and whose failiilulness never fails ! And finally : do 
emotions of gratitude rise in our hearts, while we lecoUect the 
benevolent and useful actions which a feeble, imperfect man per- 
formed during a few, fleeting years ? Oh ! how much warmer, 
nobler gratitude should glow within us towards that infinite Being, 
from whom cometh all the goodness and all the usefulness of his 
creatures, and all the happiness of earth and of heaven ; — whose 
love has a length, and breadth, and depth, and height, passing all 
understanding ; and who is so great in power and so excellent in 
working, that he accomplishes more good in a single moment, 
and by a single act of his will, than all created beings can ac- 
complish in ten thousand ages ! " Blessed, then, be the Lord 
God of Israel, who only doeth wondrous things; and blessed be 
his glorious name forever ; and let the whole earth be filled with 
his glory. Amen." 

o 



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